Good Morning

The first time I see the sun she is reflected off the back window of an anonymous suburban house. The encounter is so brief that I hardly realize it has happened until I have finished taking that step on my slow walk around the neighborhood, and by that time the sun (and the house) are both out of sight. In fact, it hardly seems right to say that I "saw" the sun. She likely saw me, but on my end it was a glancing blow; I was the victim of the encounter. No, that isn't fair. The sun didn't mean to hurt me. She was just... enthusiastic. Those thoughts--and forgiveness--are the ones I ponder as I wait for the sun to gather herself together and say hello properly.

She's taking her sweet time, so I catalog the earlier signs that signaled to me that running into the sun on this walk is inevitable.

Minutes ago I stood at the base of a tree shaped like a tuning fork and looked straight upwards. At its tip the leaves were bathed in warm golden light that the lower foliage lacked. Those shaded leaves shivered in the cool currents of air and turned their faces towards their highlighted kin, impatient for their own chance to photosynthesize.

That tree was late to the game, compared to the mountain peaks off to the north that threw sharp craggy shadows; or the plane, bottom-lit, looking so strange in the early light that I first took it for a flying sculpture.

Even on the first leg of my walk, the outward-bound stretch, I knew the sun was coming. The sky was lighter closer to the horizon, and blushing peachy pink. I couldn't see the edge of the earth itself, with the crops of houses and pet trees springing up so tightly together, but I knew that somewhere to the east daybreak was straightening her costume, almost ready to burst into our lives.

But that wasn't the first thing that reminded me of the sun this morning. Mere steps out of my front door I saw a polished silver moon hanging aloof in the western sky. I squinted at his brilliance for a moment at the end of my driveway, wondering how he could feel so close to me when he was far enough away to glimpse his sister over the Earth's shoulder.

Aah. Now, miles later, the sun finally greets me properly. She beams at me from between two houses. I deliver my apology, eyes bashfully averted, and continue on my way. I take deep breaths and admire the world coming to life in the sun's warm gaze.

Birds chirp in greater numbers, and I notice them winging from tree to tree. They're the day shift predators of insects, taking over for the night-working bats I had seen before sunrise. At last I see a small bird land in a birch I'll soon reach. I slow my already lazy steps and fixate on its restless shifting 20 feet above. A larger bird, a jay, I think, lands nearby in the lower branches and I stand still to watch.

After observing the jay for a second, I shift my gaze back to the first bird. I don't spot it immediately, being unpracticed at spotting what movement is arboreal and what movement is avian, and also unpracticed at remembering where I saw something the first time. I practice now. Back and forth. Jay to songbird. The jay is closer to the ground and closer to the sidewalk, so I move underneath it and wish for my camera.

A cry from the jay, the loudest sound I've heard all morning frightens me with sudden sharpness. I jump involuntarily and decide it's time to continue my walk.

Along with the birds, more humans are awake. One here polishing a motorcycle, two there walking, and many in their cars growling past me in Mazdas, Cadillacs, and Toyotas. I'm walking faster now, observing, observing, observing. I've been prowling the pavement for more than an hour now, and it's not as silent and solitary as when I set out. I'm ready to go home.

Two long blocks later I'm three corners from my front door and I remember the moon. I'm walking west at the time, so I look for him, but I only see bright sky and trees, but see nothing. Smiling inwardly, I imagine the dynamics, tired older brother, having watched over us through the night, slips silently away as the animals shake off dreams under the warming gaze of his sister, the sun.

My smile slips two corners from home. I break out of the residential maze for a moment and stand beside a busy street. On the other side is a slice of undeveloped land and enough open sky to show me the moon. He doesn't look the part of watchful guard anymore, his face is white, ashy, and in some places I can see the blue sky behind him. Duty done, the moon is fading away.

I don't care if people look at me while waiting for the stoplight. I stand and watch the moon slip into the haze over Los Angeles. I love the sad poetry of it. Two hours ago I could not have imagined I'd be on this corner listening to the freeway traffic and watching the crumbling moon.

Rounding one corner more, my home is in sight. Time to wrap up this adventure. I duck my head and shield my eyes from the rising sun.

***
Over 900 words and I don't even mention what was possibly the part most worth mentioning, and the motivating factor on me going for such a long walk: Fresh donut!!

At different times I wished for binoculars (for birds), camera (for pictures, duh), and pre-stretched muscles (for jogging. in my condition running would've cause unpleasant soreness (as opposed to the other, more wonderful kind)).

Want to hear a joke? I planned on not writing more than a couple sentences today.